King of Always: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 2)
King of Always: Chapter 7

Isla

The night of the grotto encounter with the Prince of Fire, I skip dinner in the Great Hall, choosing instead to take my anger out on the glowing coals in my hearth by smashing them repeatedly with a fire poker. Juvenile, I know, but I’d rather sulk by myself than listen to anymore of Raff’s unflattering demands that I agree to a stupid marriage of convenience.

The only person the marriage would be convenient for is him.

I give the coals another whack and sit back on the rug to stare at the flames. Shadows from the corners of the room creep toward me, and I hug my knees and suppress a shudder.

The opulent chamber is decorated with blue and gold murals of lithe-limbed fae dancing around red flames and skeletal tree branches. It sounds a little gruesome, but the effect is whimsical and uplifting, like paintings in old children’s books about myths and fables.

Dark drapes hang over massive curved windows, currently hiding a majestic view of the sparkling black and green city. The floor is glittery-veined black marble. Ruby chandeliers drip like glowing flames from the ceiling. My bed, which could easily sleep six, is covered in lush fabrics and huge velvet cushions fit for a queen or three.

A few days ago, when Lara first threw open the carved doors to reveal my chambers, I squealed with joy. I’d never seen anything so magical and palatial. When I’m hanging out here, I feel like a princess in a fairy tale instead of a permanently exhausted student who waits tables to make ends meet, which is the point, I suppose, of her accommodating me here. To get me used to the idea of excessive beauty and luxury.

A log explodes, showering me with sparks, and I scoot backward, the hair on my arms standing on end as I wait to see what will happen next. This is magic—I smell it in the air, a bitter flavor on my tongue.

The crackling of the fire becomes a long hissing sound which somehow turns into words. “Silly girl,” the flames say. “What reason have you to shiver and shake while you lie in luxury’s bosom, a cosseted pet of the Elemental fae?”

About to spring onto my feet and race around the room in a panic, not a helpful activity, I force my muscles to relax, sucking in a long breath at the sight of Sally Salamande’s red and green eyes peering at me from between the flames.

“What are you doing in the fire, Sally? Are you trying to scare me to death?”

She cackles like an evil witch. “There are untold ways to kill you, dear Isla, every one of them significantly more enjoyable than through fear alone. I came to ask how you are enjoying Faery. Is it as you expected it would be?”

“Much worse. Listen, you’re freaking me out, your head floating without your body in the flames like that. What do you really want?”

“I would like to arrange the meeting with the man we spoke of when we made our bargain. The one you must listen to.”

I grimace. “Yuck. I’m so over arrogant men right now. Can’t I meet with a nice faery girl instead?”

A scarlet eyebrow rises, her lips pursing. “No, you cannot. When the wedding procession nears Merrin Creek, you must listen carefully. A bronze bird will call to you from the treetops: three pips and a long caw, sung three times over. You will follow it and meet the green-haired male as you promised.”

Did I promise? I agreed to hear someone out, but I can’t remember if it was part of the actual vow I made. She can’t lie, so I must have, and I keep my promises. So I guess that means I’ll be rendezvousing with mister green hair, whoever he is. “Fine. Is this guy the curse-breaker I’m not meant to tell anyone about?”

Blue and orange flames whip out from the hearth, flickering against my face. They warm my skin but don’t cause any pain.

“This man is not important, but he will lead you to one who knows words, long hidden, that are of utmost significance. Prick your ears when you hear them, human, for they will foretell of a future in which the curse is no more.”

What. The. Living. Hell?

“Okay, great tip,” I say, my voice laced with sarcasm. Why can’t fae just speak plainly? “Lara advised me to arrange an audience with Ether, the High Mage, but whenever I knock on her door, there’s no answer. I’m starting to believe she doesn’t exist.”

Sally spits into the flames. “Pfft. Do not trouble yourself with my sister. She’s too grand to bother with your troubles.”

“Lara paints a different picture of her, and she helped Ever—”

“Rafael is the fire prince. His magic is connected to mine, which makes him my problem. Do not speak to Ether or you will put the entire kingdom, including your cousin’s charming young daughter, at risk. You must sleep now. You will need your strength for tomorrow’s journey. Fae wedding processions are akin to a Wild Hunt and often a trial for humans to endure.”

Her scarlet locks twist and writhe as her palm shoots out, fingers snapping in front of my nose. Instantly, my eyes shut, muscles melting as I crumple over the black furs piled in front of the fireplace.

I fall into a restless sleep, plagued by dreams of smoldering gold eyes and a red-furred mire fox who screeches and points at me while pulling my hair.

When my maid, a sweet-faced fae called Fairwyn, wakes me at dawn, I’ve got a pounding headache, and I shrink from the light streaming through the open curtains like a vampire dumped in the desert.

Grumbling, I untangle myself from the hearth’s furs and stumble up to prepare for three days’ travel with the Emerald Court, still thinking about Sally’s comment about processions and Wild Hunts.

Did that actually happen last night? Was she even real or am I going mad?

I wash quickly in an ornate copper bathtub and then dress in soft leggings and a finely embroidered gold tunic with capped sleeves made of long red and orange feathers that dance like flames every time I move. The outfit would look great on a Babylonian priestess, but Fairwyn refers to it as plain travel clothes, massively undermining its appeal.

With graceful movements, she packs a leather satchel, side-eying me as I inch toward the door, preparing to escape.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s okay to say it,” I tell her.

“And wherever you’re going, Miss Isla, please do not be long. Remember, you cannot speak with Princess Lara this morning because she and the prince are meeting Queen Varenus in her chambers.”

I laugh, and she gives me the evil eye. “Sorry. I’m still getting used to Lara and the princess thing.”

Hiding a grin, she busies herself making the bed. “The court will gather outside the main gates at noon. As soon as you arrive there you must find Princess Lara’s guard, Orlinda, and she will show you to your carriage. Your belongings will be waiting for you.”

“Thank you.” I give her a friendly salute before following the intricate web of servants’ staircases all the way down to the enormous kitchen, a mixture of excitement and unease churning in my belly.

I bustle past the staff busy assembling travel baskets of food and sweet talk the head cook, a very hairy hobgoblin, into letting me bake a couple of batches of pistachio nut cookies. When life gets weird, bake. That’s my motto. And I know the delicious treats will lift my spirits no matter what happens out on the road today.

Trouble is, when I start creaming the butter and sugar, sifting in flour, and mixing and shaping, I’m not feeling my usual baking bliss. Instead, a terrible homesickness overtakes me. I’m filled with longing to see my mom, our bright apartment, and the kitchen that houses my one prized possession—a beautiful commercial-grade oven. Just picturing its shiny beveled edges and sleek surfaces makes me cry. Oh, Beryl, I miss you so much.

And, yes, my oven has a name. Nothing wrong with that.

After I wrap the buttery, cardamom-scented cookies in waxed cloth, I make my way through mostly deserted streets under the shadows of the castle’s green turrets, the buzz of a chattering crowd and the intermittent scrape of cart wheels against paving stones growing louder as I approach the city’s main entrance.

Out front of the carved jade gates sits a platform woven from brambles and decorated with roses, and on it stand Lara and Ever, both looking regal in gold and silver finery, the Elemental court surrounding them. The air smells of cinnamon and freshly baked bread, making my mouth water.

Standing on my tiptoes, I peer around wings and horns and the elaborate, multi-colored hairstyles that are all the rage at court toward a golden bridge at the end of the plaza. It stretches from the city’s black-cliffed mountaintop rising in a high arc over gushing waterfalls to the other side of Terra River where it leads onto wide green plains, a dark mountain range shining in the distance.

According to Lara, beyond the mountain range lies the famous Lowlands through which we’ll travel before following Fire River to our destiny—Merrin Creek, the place where Balor found her unconscious and Ever thought he’d caught a troll. What a romantic meeting! A great story to bore the grandchildren with, that’s for sure.

I have no idea why they want to suffer nearly three days on the road to legitimize their Faery marriage at the very place Ever took her captive. To me, it seems weird.

But as I picture him back at Max’s diner, broad shoulders straining his band t-shirt as he helped Lara fry burgers, I remind myself that he’s not a typical fae prince. He’s unpredictable and irrational and a complete fool for love—I shouldn’t be surprised by anything he does, really.

For me, the trip will be an adventure, a chance to explore the wonderful land of Faery. Living with the fae these past few days has been a mind-blowing experience, but on the whole, instead of being monstrous, they’ve been reasonably civil, no extreme revelries or gruesome cruelties to mention.

And maybe that’s because this is the Seelie court, not the dark one, and I’m related by marriage to one of their precious princes. I feel safe with them, but I hope they don’t change into heinous beasts with a taste for murder and mayhem and the flesh of human girls while they’re roaming about the wild forests.

Back on the dais, Jinn stands patiently beside Ever, his black mane braided with flowers and gemstones, shining coat draped in silver chains strung with bells and charms that tinkle when he moves. Merri is off to the side, snuggled in Magret’s arms, playing with the fae’s impressive antlers.

All around the grand courtyard people bustle, loading supplies into the horses’ packs, fine carriages, and carts. Amid shouts and laughter, baskets and parcels materialize above our heads, rotating through the air from one side of the assembly to the other. Wow. That’s cool. Magic makes packing a breeze.

After a time, the crowd stills and Ever raises his hand, silencing the chatter. “Many moons ago a black-hearted hunter sought his prey in the silent forest. Expecting to find only tedium and boredom, he stumbled upon the brightest, most precious gift the Elements could bestow—a kindred heart, the truest companion, a love mightier than storms and fiercer than lightning. With every beat of my free heart, I thank Dana for giving me Lara Delaney and my daughter, Merrin Airgetlám Fionbharr. Today my human bride and I will walk the path of our courtship in reverse. When we take our first step back in the direction of the Emerald Keep, she will be a true princess of the fae, honored and protected in the Land of Five and the seven realms beyond.”

The crowd applauds.

Ever takes Lara’s hand and presses his lips against her tear-bright cheeks.

She smiles, entwining their fingers together, then faces the court. “My deepest thanks to the Elemental Court for walking alongside us on our wedding procession. I wish each one of you equal joy to ours—for there is no greater magic than love. Blessed be the Five Elements that unite our land in peace and the mages who connect our people’s power to the source.” She sweeps her arms wide, gesturing toward the mages who stand by the bridge. All three incline their heads.

The High Mage, Ether, wears silver robes that shine bright as a winter sun, a halo of white cotton-candy hair framing her angular face. Beside her, the earth mage, Terra, grins widely, the black and purple crystals on her dark gown glinting in the light. Opposite them, Undine stands solemn-faced, her blue hair rippling with her iridescent robes.

Raff’s fire mage, Salamander, is suspiciously absent. According to Lara, she hasn’t been seen in Faery for at least a moon’s turn, which means roughly a month. So what exactly is she up to, appearing in my hearth last night while she’s hiding from everyone else?

Thankfully, Aer, the most dangerous of the mages and the cause of Ever and Lara’s recent trouble, isn’t here either. She’s imprisoned in the forest and safely guarded by the moss elves, which is comforting to know. I have no desire to meet the original Black Blood curse-maker in the flesh. By all accounts, she’s as sour as unsweetened lemonade mixed with strychnine and about as pleasant as a shark attack. I don’t think anyone’s missing her terribly.

“Dear Prince and Princess,” says Ether, raising her palms skyward, “may each step you take together be as light as the eastern breeze and may your sorrows be mere shadows that fade swiftly in the light of love. Blessed be the Five that weaves through the realms and binds all matter together.” She bows toward the dais. “Prince of Air, Everend Calidore Fionbharr and the mortal Lara Delaney, with the blessing of feathers, let your wedding procession begin.”

The High Mage blows a kiss in their direction, and a flock of starlings appears and circles around Ever and Lara’s crowns of twisted silver and garnet gemstones, the birds’ glossy black feathers shot with iridescent purple and green, tumbling over them.

High above the proceedings, silver and gold órga falcons eddy through blue skies, their screeches long and shrill. Holding hands, Lara and Ever laugh as they watch the falcons play.

A raucous cheer rises over the roar of the waterfalls as the colorful parade of fae pours past the mages onto the bridge—some on foot, some astride prancing ponies or leaning out open carriages to share jokes and tease each other, the supply carts rolling through last. It’s incredibly noisy and chaotic, and I can’t help being swept up in the festive atmosphere.

Stepping deeper into the moving cavalcade, I glance around. I need to find my ride before I get left behind. But instead of looking for Orlinda, I search the strange and beautiful fae faces for the white queen and a certain tall prince who’s usually dressed in red and black with a golden sunstone glinting at his brow. Surprisingly, neither the queen nor her heir apparent appear to be present.

My stomach twists, and I sigh in relief. It’s a good thing Raff isn’t here. If I had a choice, I’d rather not endure his arrogance for three whole days of travel. It’s great he’s not coming.

Although, he would definitely improve the scenery. I wouldn’t mind ogling him from a safe distance whenever I get bored along the way. I groan. I should slap myself. No gawking at Prince Rafael, Isla. He’s unsafe and nothing like the guys from home. In fact, he’s not even a guy. He’s a supernatural faery. Best not to forget that. Ever.

Finally, I notice a slate-blue arm directing traffic near a fancy horse-drawn carriage. The arm is attached to the body of Lara’s personal guard and friend, Orlinda. As if sensing my gaze on her, she glances up and waves me over. I push through the ever-flowing stream of fae until I reach her.

“Good morning, Lady Isla of Blackbrook,” she says, smiling as she bows. “Are you ready to begin the journey?”

I squint up at her broad face, the rows of silver piercings flowing from her lobes to the sharp tips of her ears. “Please don’t call me that. My name’s Isla,” I say, grinning back at her.

She tosses a blonde braid over her armored shoulder then adjusts the strap and sheath that secures the huge sword across her back. “If you insist, Isla. You seem very much like your cousin, Princess Lara, which means, before long, we shall be friends.”

“I bet there’s no flipping way she lets you call her princess.”

“True. She does not.” Orlinda nods at a beautiful horse-drawn carriage. “Your transport awaits, Isla.”

The vehicle’s bronze-colored roof is folded back, open to the clear blue sky. Delicately painted sunflowers with bright-green stems and petals swirl over deep-red side panels, the effect striking and whimsical. Well, this is a little different than the grimy, uncomfortable, beige-colored trains and buses I’m used to traveling on between school, Max’s diner, and my apartment.

Things are looking up.

“Not too shabby,” I say, as Orlinda swings opens the scarlet door, beckoning me up the steps.

The plush cushions sigh as I drop my head back and gaze at the glowing orb in the sky, its soothing rays warming my skin. In Faery the sun is different, its light more silvery as if it’s shining through a veil of water. It’s softer, more magical, and makes me feel sleepy. My eyelids grow heavy, and I struggle to keep them from closing.

This isn’t right. It’s only midday. Sure, I slept badly last night—thanks to Sally—but I’m a student and I’m used to operating on minimum shuteye. Shaking my head, I lurch up and grab Orlinda’s leather bracer. “Hey, did you just use magic to try to make me fall asleep?”

Orlinda’s lips quirk. “No. It is the sun in this realm. If you stop staring at it, your alertness will soon return.”

With an amused snort, she shuts the door and braces her hands on the sides of the carriage. “The horses leading your wagon, Bran and Brindle, are intelligent creatures. If you need to stop, simply ask and they will obey. Be warned that while on procession, we fae love to socialize and frequently swap horses and carriages. You will no doubt have many visitors, some more pleasant than others. Should you wish the freedom of riding in the saddle, simply ask anyone, and your request will be granted.”

“You won’t be riding with me?” I ask. She’s a fearsome looking gal, handy to have around in case the faeries flip out and decide to eat me for dinner one night.

She flicks her head toward the dais where Magret is mounting a dappled gray horse, baby Merrin already seated in a special carrier at the front of the saddle. “I shall stay close to your family. High fae have powerful magic, especially the princes, as long as the curse does not hold them too tightly in its grip. Still, there are many creatures in the lands we will travel through who aren’t fond of human princesses and may have plans to harm your cousin and her child. I must protect them. And you must take care as well. Trust no one.”

“So, I don’t get a guard?” I’d prefer not to have one—it leaves me freer to explore—but I’m interested in why I don’t.

“Do not worry, every single Elemental fae is watching you.”

That’s not exactly comforting news.

In the square below the dais, Ever lifts Lara, placing her on Jinn’s saddle before mounting behind her. They whisper and laugh like a couple on their first date heading out on a picnic. Magret and Merri’s horse trots past me, and Jinn, with Balor at his heels, follows close behind.

Ever pulls Jinn up beside my carriage, his silver gaze sparkling with mischief. “Cousin Isla,” he says, “You’re looking well, dressed in proper clothes, and for once not covered in flour. I hardly dare say it, but you almost look fae. How did you manage to hold your tongue long enough to submit to grooming?”

“Oh, be quiet. Just because you’re a big deal here doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how you looked cleaning toilets at Max’s joint. Want me to tell that story to Lord Ephron? I suspect your army’s supreme commander would find that tale rather difficult to believe, given how pompous I’ve heard he is.”

Mercury swirls in his silver eyes, and he laughs with genuine pleasure. “Enjoy your ride, and please don’t lean too far out of the carriage. If you fall out, you are on your own. We never turn back to collect stragglers while on procession.”

Lara swivels in the saddle and smacks his head. He laughs.

“Don’t frighten her, Ever. You’re a beast sometimes.”

He laughs louder.

“It’s okay, Lara,” I say. “He can’t help it. It’s hard for people who only pretend to be civilized to be nice all the time, isn’t it, Ever?”

“As they say, Isla, it takes one to know one.” He flicks his fingers toward me, and a gust of wind blows my hair straight up in the air, then it tumbles down, wrapping around my face.

Lara rolls her eyes as I attempt to bring order to my hair. “I’ve forgotten how intolerable you and Ever are together.”

“We love each other really,” I say. “But we also enjoy pretending we don’t.”

She sighs. “Arggh. You are both so similar. But seriously, Isla, take a good look at the members of the court.” She gestures to the parade of fae streaming past us. “Please be careful these next few days. I won’t be able to keep an eye on you like I can at the castle. The one thing, the single most important thing I want you to remember is to not strike a bargain with anyone, even if they promise to make you the most famous baker who’ll ever live in the entire seven realms.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes skyward. “Jeez—for the love of butter! I’m aware already. You’ve told me this like a trillion times.”

Her green eyes narrow. “Promise me.”

“Okay.” Crossing my fingers beneath the hem of my tunic, I meet her stony gaze. “I promise I won’t make any bargains with creepy fae dudes,” I lie.

She pinches my wrist. “Or fae ladies. Or pookas. Or anyone.”

“Yes. All of those. I promise.” I don’t even know what a pooka is—nor do I care. “Do I look like I’m an idiot?”

“Yes. Sometimes. I’ll see you at camp tonight. Be good.” She bends and drops a kiss on my cheek, then Ever pinches it.

Jinn saunters onto the bridge, his tail swishing in time to Lara’s singing. Somehow, her clear, high voice makes The Gypsy Rover sound both jaunty and sinister. A warning, instead of a ballad about star-crossed lovers.

“Since it’s their wedding procession, shouldn’t they be leading the parade?” I ask Orlinda.

The muscular fae bobs down to test the attachment of the long shaft that connects the horses to the carriage. “They’ll slowly make their way from the rear of the parade to the head, spending time with all members of the court as they travel.”

She leaps with ease onto her huge gray warhorse. “If you need me, Isla, just call my name. I have air magic and hear every whisper.”

God, she sounds like Ever.

I hear you. Every whisper is mine—he was fond of telling Lara and me whenever we gossiped about him in the human world, which with his near constant faery shenanigans, was frequently.

For example, his favorite trick was to tangle Mom’s hair into elflocks so she’d wake and find it fashioned into shapes of various animals, similar to topiary bushes. The giraffe was the most hilarious.

And one week he created an Armani business suit glamor that only Mom could see and walked around the apartment talking about business meetings with the Brazilian government while he was actually bare-chested and dressed only in jeans, making Lara and me choke on our laughter. Poor Mom.

Once a faery always a faery, I guess. Turns out they’re really hard to house train.

“Enjoy your trip, Lady Isla,” Orlinda says, wheeling her horse around. “When the road rises to meet you, may it always be the path you deserve.”

“Pardon?”

Grinning wickedly, she whistles sharply and trots away, her wheat-colored braid whipping the air behind her.

My horses burst into action, and the carriage rolls along the golden bridge, leaving behind the castle’s glittering emerald spires and the jagged black mountain it’s sprawled upon.

In a loose formation, the strange procession bumps over the wide green plain that stretches east to west as far as the eye can see. When we reach the Dún Mountain range, we follow a narrow pathway through the Valley of Light, which flows between the mountains’ spectacular jet cliffs.

Ever’s falcons soar high above, and music from pan pipes and weird-shaped stringed instruments travel on the light, warm breeze. It’s quite heavenly lying back on my luxurious cushions as I absorb the beauty of the land.

The day goes on at a gentle, rambling pace, and other than engaging me in a few friendly chats, most of the fae leave me alone, free to enjoy the scenery. The deep-blue skies and startlingly green grasses of the Lowlands are beautiful, but when we leave the banks of the muddy River Terra and enter the lush forest of the northern side of Mount Cúig, my mouth gapes in wonder.

As we climb uphill, the tall pines groan, a magical path appearing between their branches. Unimaginable beings peek through the silvery foliage, some hovering in the air above us and showering the procession with rainbow-colored petals, their translucent wings a whirring hum as they flutter past.

I let my horses dawdle, preferring to linger at the back of the parade so I can enjoy the spectacle of the magically parting trees for longer.

Out of nowhere, hoofbeats drum the earth in a steady rhythm, the sound coming from behind me and growing closer every second. I’m about to turn around and see who’s in such a hurry to catch up with us when three purple-winged sylphs with luminous bodies swoop down and hang off the side of my carriage.

Instantly, my horses stop.

“Isla. Isla,” they chant, their heads nodding solemnly and cold voices echoing through the forest. “Take the chosen for a bride, and the poison ceases deep inside.”

Ugh. That’s part of the curse they’re chanting, trying to freak me out, I suppose. “What are you talking about?” I ask, forcing steel into my voice, refusing to let them know their efforts to scare me are working. “You’re not making any sense.”

Three sets of obsidian eyes narrow as they lean closer and drone on and on in dry, papery whispers. “If by another’s hand the chosen dies, then before their blood fully weeps and dries, black will fade to gray, gray to—”

“Téigh anois,” growls a voice at my side, prickling the hairs on the back of my neck. “Be gone.”

I whip my head up and see Raff seated on Flame. Spark rides his shoulders looking proud of herself in fancy red and black mini-armor, pretty amber earrings hanging from her ears.

The sylphs disperse into the air, screeching like bats as they go.

“Hello, Raff,” I say, running my gaze over his armor-clad body. “What are you doing here?”

“Protecting you.” His golden gaze meets mine, a half-smile on his lips. “In this land, sylphs bite humans and suck away their life force, especially pretty ones. They’d love a tasty morsel like you.”

Did he just call me pretty? If so, I’m officially shocked.

“And take care not to listen to a word they say. They’re ill-informed, spiteful beings.”

“So they can lie, then?”

“Well…no. But they adore causing trouble for almost everyone except Ever. They are creatures of air, and they delight in meddling where they don’t belong.”

“Well, we were only having a chat. You know, you surprise me. Lara always said you were the fun brother. Funny even. But you come across as nothing but an arrogant grump.”

Anger flashes over his handsome features as he flicks Flame into a walk, my horses following suit. He rides close beside me. “I was different before the curse took hold. Since then, I have changed.”

“It’s a shame. The way you were before…we might have gotten along. I thought you weren’t coming on the procession. Rumor has it that you were planning to fly in for the ceremony at the last moment in the form a giant squirrel.”

Dark eyebrows dive low. “My creature is not a squirrel. It’s a phoenix—an elegant firebird.”

“Really?” I say, quashing a flicker of admiration. I’d really love to see his phoenix. Huh. Why does that sound crude somehow? “I was sure you’d turn into some kind of magical rodent.”

“Very funny.”

I have no clue why he’s decided to ride alongside me. Wearing a sulky expression, he doesn’t look very happy. Long, tawny hair flows over the black and red armor, molding lovingly to his well-formed warrior’s body. Spark pats his shoulder as though consoling him, and his white horse, Flame, prances along gaily enough. I’m glad to see at least one of his party is pleased to be joining the procession.

Gaze scanning the nearby trees, his frown deepens, and I begin to feel a little sorry for him. It can’t be easy being a cursed prince. “Well, to be honest, the rumor I heard was that you’d be flying in on some great bird thing, not a squirrel. I didn’t realize it was a phoenix.”

“I won’t be riding one; I am the phoenix.” He smirks and leans closer, the saddle creaking as he shifts his weight. “So you’ve been inquiring about me?”

“Nope. For some reason, the courtiers seem to enjoy talking about their Prince of Fire and divulge all sorts of unwanted information to me, like you riding the bird thingy.”

“You lie. I see it clearly. Each time you do so, your eyes give you away. Did you not hear me properly? I do not ride an impressive bird. I become one.”

“So what?”

“So what? I am an Elemental fae and can shift into a magnificent creature. What can you do, foolish girl, that I cannot?”

“As you said—I can lie.”

The lovely angles of his face sharpen with anger. “Then, since it is so hard for you to tell the truth, I challenge you to do so now. Say one thing that is true. Can you do it?”

“What will you give me if I do?”

Dark eyebrows lift, then he laughs, a warm and comforting sound. “So, you wish to sell me your truth?”

“It wouldn’t be a sale. More like a present—for which I’ll receive something in return.”

“Once you put a price on something, small or large, or expect anything in return, it is no longer a gift.”

“Maybe, but a person’s truth is precious, and if you want mine, you’ll have to take a risk. You’ll owe me a favor, which could turn out to be anything because I’m not setting a time limit on it. It could be weeks until I call the favor in. In the meantime, you’ll just have to wait and wonder.”

He twists the garnet ring on his finger. “And what might you want from me?”

“Perhaps that ring you’re always fiddling with.”

He frowns down at the band glowing brightly in the green-tinged light.

“Or I might like to take Spark out for a day of fun, and we’ll ramble around the forest together.”

Spark shrieks in excitement, bouncing on her master’s broad shoulders, making Flame whinny in protest.

“Or maybe I’ll ask you to fetch me wine from the kitchen in the middle of the night and treat you like a servant.”

His pillowy lips part as my gaze lifts to them.

“Or I might request a kiss…just one, so I can die knowing what it’s like to make a fae prince squirm.”

“Alright,” he says abruptly. “It is a bargain. Tell me one truth, and I shall give you whatever you want, at whatever time you wish to receive it.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of me, and Raff smiles broadly—a glimpse of the warm young man Lara spoke so fondly of. My heart stutters, responding to his happy expression. I wish he wouldn’t look at me like that.

I give him my hand to shake, and he clasps it, heat rushing up my arm.

“The bargain is set. Now pay me what you promised,” he orders.

“Okay, one single truth is yours. Or maybe two if you’re lucky. Are you ready to hear it?”

The muscles of his throat ripple. “Yes.”

I steady my breathing. My next words will no doubt reinstate his permanent scowl. “Okay. Here goes… I will never marry you, Rafael. Not for promised riches or glories, not for the sake of any curse, and not even if it would save five freaking fae kingdoms. I don’t want you to mention this fated-mate-thing in my presence ever again. Do you understand?”

His eyes burn fiercely, like he’d love nothing more than to reach out and strangle me. But he says not a word.

Growing uncomfortable with the silence, I say, “That’s the truth you wanted. And now you’ve heard it.”

I’ve witnessed Ever’s anger many times—the darkening light, the sky shaking and trembling, a prelude to the crash of thunder which always follows. But this… Raff’s fury is different, hot and wild, it rushes through the air scorching my skin. I smell burning embers. Destruction. Devastation. And a tiny part of me regrets mocking him. But only a little.

“Be careful what you wish for, human. One day you may find yourself begging for that kiss—”

“Which I’ll be sure to receive if I ever happen to decide I want it. You struck a bargain and promised to give it to me.”

“So now you’re arguing to secure it? Interesting. One moment you’re vowing you will never ever have me. The next you’re demanding I surrender my lips the moment you desire them. Make up your mind, fickle human, my time need not be squandered on insignificant prattle.”

“Fine. What are you doing hanging around, then? Go!”

“I will. When I’m good and ready.”

I snort loudly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No, you are the one who is—”

“Just leave.”

“Yah!” he yells, dark hair flying out behind him as Flame rears onto his hind legs and then gallops away.

Three beautiful fae girls ride past on a green and gold striped horse, their limbs tangling together as they whisper and point at me. I fling them a middle-finger salute and stretch back in the carriage, folding my hands behind my head, hoping I appear unruffled by them.

I glance over my shoulder and watch the trees close their branches over the path behind me and begin to wish I wasn’t at the very end of the procession.

“Do not worry, tiny yellow-haired relation of Prince Everend,” calls one of the three snickering fae on the horse ahead of me. “We are nearly at the top of Mount Cúig where we shall camp for the night. If you remain quiet, you won’t attract the deevs attention, and you should make it there in one piece.”

Laughter cackles from their gaping mouths, making anger sizzle down to my fingertips.

I blow the fae kisses, and sparks sail through the air, starkly visible against the purple dusk. Wow, that’s pretty. What were they—fireflies maybe? I blow on my palm again and, this time, nothing happens. Weird.

Shrugging to myself, I say, “Giddy-up, Bran and Bramble. Let’s move to the front.”

They neigh softly, and the trees separate, the path broadening as my carriage bounces past pretty wagons and horses, and even prettier fae.

If this was a race, I’d be winning it. Because there’s no way I’m going to let the deevs get me.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.